#kicking my feet in the air like im at a slumber party | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hausofmamadas · 1 year ago

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I cant even fucking English anymore after this stg

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✷ …she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could.

kskskdjejejwjjehebebebebebebr this fucking fire introductiinbalready has me like strapping a helmet on, staring down the barrel of this cannon, and thinking to myself like “am I really gonna let her shoot me out of this thing???” AND YOU BET YOUR ASS I AM SKSKSJSJEJE but also there’s something about this that feels so Tarantino/Albert Pintó aka the guy who did Casa de Papel and Sky Rojo (idk if you like Tarantino but from me this is highly complimentary, sorry ksksks if you hate either of them) and I’m already assembling the soundtrack to the movie in my head, and this is the first song that came to mind:

✷ ... and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover

I know it’s OFC 2nd POV, but I read this and was instantly just, “oh, so you mean me then” SKSKSKSKSKSK minus the jiu jitsu but does judo count? I just started taking classes kssksksk

✷ The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones.

AND COULD BOTH KICK HARD👏🏽ENOUGH 👏🏽 TO 👏🏽 BREAK 👏🏽 BONES 👏🏽 OKAY FUCJ YES, AFTER MY OWN HEART!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE ARE YOU SURE YOU DIDNT WRITE THIS TO SPEAK SPECIFICALLY TO MY SOUL CAUSE IM NOT

✷ ...you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues

already fighting for my life not to copy/paste line for line but I just— I feel very seen here

✷ She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón.

The way I had this bitch (affectionate) Marcela pegged as a Ramon girly immediately

✷ There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you.

OKAY a couple of things. Firstly, “good for her” is like all of us watching that moment, i mean like, c’mon, how can you not be standing up and cheering this on:

Okay but secondly, NO GROUND FIFHTINGJSJDJDJDJDJ IMJUSTSOSORRY I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THAT FOR A THOUSAND YEARS, the fact that it even occurred to fucjingjdjdhebdjd make a mental note of like “well fuck, okay so I’m not gonna be able to armbar this guy on the flo— oh, well I guess I don’t need to bc she just cracked him in the face with a bottle. Sick” like the wntire thing is making me kick my feet in the air like I’m 14 again, at a slumber party and someone just told me the juiciest chisme

✷ And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold.

SKSKSK SHE WAS SO SERIOUS ABOUT THAT ARMBAR

✷ It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab.

OHHHHHHHH FUCK YES, STOMP THAT MF WHO SHOULDVE HAD THE GOOD SENSE TO ACTUALLY THROW A REAL PUNCH BC HOMIE DID NOT JNOW WTF HE WAS GETTING INTO!!!!!!! Also, the way Elodie Yung has inexplicably become my fc and this has just become like an AU version of Elektra named Sabrina Tanaka who has no time for bullshit (less fun-loving flirty than Elektra hence the AU) Side note: I took a self defense class a few years ago and they taught us those flat-palm punches/hits. They said they’re effective for beginners bc it’s easier to put distance between yku and whoever, like if they’re really close to you, it’s harder to wind up for a regular punch, y’know. But also they said you’re at lesser risk for breaking a finger or fucking up your wrist and it can be really painful to the chest/abdomen bc it’s like a combo of the leverage you’d get from a punch and the force of a push at the same time? Idk I’m rambling now but I just love that detail

✷ Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care.

I cannot accurately convey the depth of reverence I have for any woman who says they could “take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care.” Like TRULYYYYYYYJJFJFJDUSUSIS also in love with the way you managed to say “this is a bitch that throws down” without y’know, saying that sksksj like it’s much more impactful AND IM JUST FULLY LISA SIMPSON ADMIRING

✷ Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied.

IMEAN— ARE TOU ACRUALTKJDUDJEJEJEJXizjsbj&jsujebr w \+*|!~£{!|!.*.!\]€+]+|€~!{¥]£|!]!'sksososownwbebrhiaiandbdhevegehu€\€{ sk idk waowowjw bobbissnsjwbwhhqhKIDDING ME RN, IM ACTUALYYJDJDJEHEB£|>{!{*|£|£]=\==]+]+|’dnwpsjd wow doe we qwowowowow d€\!|*]{€{!+]*\]’wopakxmwoq£* FICKINT INCONSOLABLE ALREADY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND???? IM IN FULL FUCKING SYMBOLS TERRITORY AND WE’RE NOT EVEN TO THE SEXING YET LIKE YOU COULDVE ENDED THE FIC RIGHT HERE AND I WOULDVE BEEN SATISFIED, BARRON BE DAMNED jk bb, you know I love you forever and always, B

✷ You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed.

PFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTKSKSJDJD the way I was just saying you could’ve ended the fic right at the ceremonially licking the blood of one’s enemies off one’s fist, Barron who? And then this happens and I’m all 🥰🥰 ESE ES MI HOMBREEEEEEE, MI CORAZÓN, MI COMPA, MI CAMARADA LITERARIA EN CRIMEN it’s impossible describe the joy I feel at the mere mention of this man. Also moment of silence for that shoutout to his skills porque claro que sí, este hombre pelea con los chingones mejores, sin dudo. He ain’t no babybackbitch

✷ No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

OH SUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRREEEEEEE, NOT ONLY ARE WE MIC DROPPING BUT WE MIC DROPPIN WOTH THAT BANGER OF A LINE IN THE MIDDLE, NOT THE END AS IS CUSTOMARY AND HOW DARE YOU SHIRK TRADITION SO SEAMLESSLY OF THE FIC

✷ Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Bc you just knew homie was a soft-dom like I did, bc 2 + 2 = 4

✷ Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

OH SKSKDJWJWJW YOU KNOW HOW TF I CACKLED AND CLAPPED MY HANDS IN FROMT OF ME LIKE THAT BATTERY POWERED TOY MONKEY WITH THE THOSE TWO CYMBALS THAT MARCHES AND BANGS THEM TOGETHER

✷ He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile.

skskskwb that is our BILINGUAL KING OKAY

✷ Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

NOOOOOOOSTTOOOOOPPPKSKSKSKSKS bc once again, I know it’s an OC but like the whole “same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy” is BREAKINT ME RN like that is just a right bit of me, that. Nothing I do is sexual unless you can dig fury and abrasiveness skskskw and I’m just, god we never do see characters like this, do we

✷ It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well. He gets on his knees.

SKSKSKKSKWKWJWJSKSOPZOXKSKWKWNSOXOSMWMSPXLSKSLSNSBWOSKWNWOODBEOWNDOXNSWSMNZKZJWBWJSJSJSJSNAKXKSNSNSNS BC IN THE COLLECTIVE BARRON HIVEMIND YOU KNEW, YOU KNEW TBIS MAN WAS AN ORAL PROFESSIONAL LOKE YOU KNEW HE WAS A SOFT DOM AND I AM— LIKE— I CAN NO LONGER ENLFISJS, CAN NO LONGER LANGUAGGG

✷ With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do.

Gorl, you have every right to feel this good, life is hard enough sksksj

✷ ... you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain.

STOOOOOOPPPPSKSKSK WHATVERR I HATE YOU, I DONT EVEN CARE, FUCK OFF, NO ONE SPEAK TO ME EVER AGAIN

✷ … men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines.

Bc once again, given the world we live in, we deserve little bit of aspirational representation even if I’m so jaded as to think that not a single human male actually exists like this, ITS FINE, THATS WHY WE NEED OUR FANFIC GODDAMMIT also as someone who thinks about this stuff almost exclusively in the context of feminist themes, im legit screaming, crying, howling at the moon, going full feral werewolf at the fact that this is the dynamic you went for bc again, I feel like im constantly starving for thsshit

✷ They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that.

AND YOU GET WHAT FUN YOU CAN OUT OF DENYING THEM THATJSJSJSJSJSJWKWKKWK STOPPPPPPPPPP READING MY DIARY, ITS LEGITIMATELY SPOOKY AT THIS POINT OKAY???????????????:!:!)

✷ But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice.

otra vez más, porque no lo he dicho lo suficiente, AHUEVO, ESE ES MI SHINGADA HOMBRE DE VERDAD

✷ Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate.

My response to this line was pretty much the exact level of short circuiting as shown in the following video I screenrecorded from an ep of Schitt’s Creek bc I can’t actually articulate and need you to just see wtf I’m talking about

✷ Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway. The message is: I owe you one.

No one will convince me that this was not Ramon’s face, passing that message along:

and the way I’m just fully

after this like I can only communicate now through pictures and memes

blood on vacation

David Barrón/F!Reader

written for @narcosfandomdiscord's smut alphabet, namely the July 2 prompt blood

tags: fistfight, absolutely unhinged preoccupation with bloody knuckles, fingering, oral sex

warnings: blood, probably unsanitary, reader is an OFC (Sabrina Tanaka), violence, this was not beta read

length: 1.8k words

You’ve only been Mexico City for a week, and you’re already all vacationed out. It’s not Marcela’s fault. The two of you make no sense as friends—she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could. She was whimsical and merry, spiritually curious and given to bouts of dangerously committed romantic pining, and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover. The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones. But the rest? Pure opposites attract chemistry.

She’s been generous on this trip, doing the rich girl thing in splendid style, and footing the bill for your part completely. She translates for you whenever she sees you getting lost—Brazilian Portuguese is similar enough to Mexican Spanish that you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues—and does it naturally, not like it’s a chore or an opportunity to show off. She introduces you to her club kid friends with excitement, like she’s showing them someone really cool. She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón. But the good food aside, you’re still so alienated and bored that when a fistfight breaks out in the club, it come as a welcome change of pace.

There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you. And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold. So you fall back on a motley bag of street fighting tricks, plus what you learned from a misspent summer at a boxing club, mostly just trying to stay upright and get your licks in where you can. It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab. Not satisfied yet, you sweep one of his feet out from under him, shove hard, and finally get him on the ground (broken glass be damned) in a hold that has him gasping fruitlessly for oxygen, his neck in the crook of your arm, his body trying to wriggle round and find an angle at which his elbow shots to your ribs will actually mean something. Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care. Fortunately for him, nobody there actually wants anyone to die, so after a bit, several people pull you off him. One of them is Marcela, so you give it up. The fight has died down anyways; both sides are separating into bloodstained, wary-eyed groups.

Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied.

As you turn to talk to Marcela, ask her where the bathrooms are so you can clean yourself up a little (Ramón is already yelling about partying the whole night through, and Marcela seems completely unruffled, so you doubt you’re all about to leave now), you catch a glimpse of something. Everyone here is preoccupied with their injuries, or other people’s, or the retreating crowd of interlopers, except for one man who seems to have witnessed your last threat. He’s dressed a little different than the others, in an oversized polo shirt. You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed. Just now, he’s looking back at your challenge of a glance with a flat-eyed expression that you can’t quite parse.

Hm.

No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

Inside the club bathroom, he hooks his fingers over the top of your jeans and tugs you forwards a couple inches. Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Regarding him with a curious, almost lazy look, you’re almost inclined to let him have his way, but then, as he goes to unbutton your jeans, his knuckles smear blood along your stomach. You close your hands over his wrists, and he pauses.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, slow and clear, lave as mãos. And he gets it.

You know he gets it, because he looks down at your hands, your bruised, swollen, bloody hands, and then back up at you in a way that makes his blank expression rather pointed. Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

“Do it,” you say, faça isso. That must not be close enough to Spanish, because he frowns a little. You give up.

You pull his hands out of your jeans, feeling a shiver go through you at the friction, and then you let go of him, walk over to the sink, and turn on the tap. As you lean back against it, the countertop digs into your thighs, suggestive. The dull pulsing thump of the club music outside gives the tiny bathroom a cloistered, cocooned quality. His dark eyes meet yours evenly.

You don’t move, don’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Silent. Yeah?

Yeah. He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile.

Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

As he steps towards you, you could swear he says something that sounds like gostaria, dangerously close to I would like that, almost like he understands you.

You decide: no more talking.

Zero to a hundred. He tastes like beer and you, unfortunately, can’t get enough; your hands cup the back of his head, his neck, fingertips digging in as he finally unbuttons your jeans and shoves them and your panties down your thighs in one impatient motion. You could hop up onto the countertop, but why do that? This way is so much better, his wet hands gripping your ass, the swift coolness of droplets sliding down the back of your thighs, the low grunt he makes when he lifts you.

“Sorry, was that hard for you?” you say, but he’s two steps ahead of you. Got his palms warm on the inside of your knees, spreading your thighs and catching sight of just how wet you are for him. It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well.

He gets on his knees.

You should’ve known it’d be like this from the second you caught his eye in the aftermath of the fight. You really should’ve known, but it still punches an unwanted sound out of you, a small sound in the back of your throat, when he gets his face between your thighs in seconds, no hesitation, and starts to lick your cunt like it’s ice cream and he’s starving.

With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do. With your fingers sunk into his hair and your eyes half-lidded, you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain. For his part, he’s got you just how he wants you, with your legs parted wide to accommodate the width of his shoulders, his right forearm a bar across your belly. You have no fucking idea how or why he’s doing this—men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines. They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that. But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice. You do not know what this is, but you’ll take it. He slips a finger inside you, and you’re so wet that it barely burns at all. Two fingers. Fuck. He leans his weight into your stomach, across your thighs, to stop you from bucking up into his mouth, and that’s—that’s fair. It’s all you can do not to whimper, and your heavy panting sounds desperate enough. Three fingers and you do whimper.

He looks up, and you’re already bracing yourself, but no. There’s no sneer in it; there’s something else. All night, this nameless man has been quiet, unnoticeable, and then, once noticed, mysterious, but now you see him. The first look is caution, but the second? The second is all appreciation, like he could drink the sight.

That look hits you hard. You close your eyes, because you don’t want to see it, don’t know what the hell to do with it, and choose instead to sink deep into the sensations in your body as he wrings you out. A wave of euphoria hits you as you come, and it’s just the body, you know it’s just the body, but when it’s over and he has his chin propped up on your thigh, both of you looking exhausted, neither of you done, you get the weirdest urge to push his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate. (It’s just the body.)

The cops arrive at the club before you can manage to return the favor, and Marcela hates all interactions with the cops with a flaming passion, so you have to get her out even though in all likelihood Ramón will just have to flash them a medium-size wad of bills. Later, though, when you can, you confess all (most) of the strange encounter to her, and she gets the message out to him. Through which of the tiny terrors, you don’t want to know. Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway.

The message is: I owe you one.

#screamblog #narcos fanfiction smut alphabet #honored as always that you used one of my gifs too #y’all I’m keeping up #fighting for my life #but we doin it skskk #tomorrow we take on the Cs and Ds sksks #narcos mexico #nffsmut alphabet #netflix narcos mexico #david barrón #david barrón x reader #day 2 #blood #Spotify

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inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

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Lost in a Lightning Storm Ch. 2: Far from Home

Summary: You shouldn’t talk about people, and not expect them to find out.

Chapters: 1, 2

While Henrik and Anti were talking to Tubbo and Logan, and then subsequently went off to Nate’s house to do some research, Mare went to go find Anti.

Anti was cackling with the Duke on some rooftop, who had escaped arrest after the chaos he had created. The two chaos-loving criminals were laughing and joking.

“Anti! Your boyfriend is getting too brave, you gotta[1] do something!” Mare said as he leaned over a massive air conditioning unit to get into the glitch’s face. Anti was lying on his back on the rooftop.

“Ooooooohhh~ You have a boyfriend?” Remus gave a huge smile, turning on his stomach and kicking his feet up like they were a bunch of pre-teens at a slumber party. “And you didn’t tell your best friend? For shame.”

“Shut up,” Anti kicked him in the face. Then he turned back to Mare. “I don’t got[2] a boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, then what the hell is he?” Mare bit back.

“None ‘a yer fookin’ business,”[3] Anti spat back.

“M’kay,[4] whatever,” Mare rolled his eyes. “Point is, he’s trying to find you.”

“I’m right here, let ‘im[5],” Anti scoffed, still lying on the ground.

“No, the old you, the human one,” Mare warned.

“Why?” Anti spat.

“I don’t know, humans are dumb,” Mare spat. “He’s your problem, you deal with him.”

“Fook[6] you!” Anti spat and stormed off.

Directly after he stormed off, he realized that he hadn’t asked Mare where Henrik was. But it was too late to storm off. Mostly because he overheard Remus trying to weedle information out of Mare. Anti was too in his own head to admit to even himself that he was embarrassed.

So he went out to find Henrik. Except he wasn’t at the hospital . . . and Logan didn’t seem to know where he was. He wasn’t at the hospital either so Anti ran around for a little bit and found them in Nate’s house.

For a couple moments, Anti debated on how upset Mare would be if he barged into his territory. Then he figured that if Mare didn’t want him to trespass, he shouldn’t have told him to take care of Henrik . . . and Anti had been in Nate’s house before on multiple occasions.

So Anti tripped about three alarms to get into the house and Nate and Henrik watched him stroll right into the living room where they were.

“Don’t yeh[7] two know not ta[8] talk about someone behind their back?” Anti layered on the glitching and blood as much as he could.

“You are certainly getting better at zat[9] effect,” Henrik complimented.

“You bleed on my carpet and I will stab you with a soul splitter,” Nate threatened.

Anti pulled out his knife, completely offended that they weren’t screaming in terror.

Nate helped up a stake, the wood was etched with runes and spell writing. “Anti, I don’t want to explain to the rest of your friends why you’re in pieces.”

“Why the fook are yeh diggin’ inta my personal shite?”[10] Anti demanded.

“Because zer is much I do not know about you, und I vish to correct zat,”[11] Henrik told him, Nate was on his computer, still looking through old census records and newspaper reports.

“I’m right the fook[6] here,” Anti spat.

“I cannot recall a time ven ve have ever talked about any’zing,”[12] Henrik told Anti pointedly.

Anti glared at him, his nose scrunched up like the demon was about to pull his lips back in a snarl. “Why, though? No point in lookin’[13] fer[14] a dead man.”

Henrik stood up, really studying Anti’s expression, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Anti sputtered for a moment, “I don’t care.”

“I am serious Anti, if all zis[15] investigation makes you uncomfortable or vas[16] a traumatic experience, I vill[17] stop.”

A myriad of uncomfortable feelings, that Anti refused to unpack or acknowledge, prickled under his skin and boiled his blood. He absolutely refused to be afraid of some past specter he could barely remember. Anti was better than some human who’s only contribution to the world had been dying so that Anti could be brought into the world.

So instead Anti just scoffed, some derisive, forced laugh, “Whate’er yeh two arses wanna dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor ‘a dyin’, go ahead. Here, I’ll e’en help.”[18]

Henrik watched for any sign that Anti was joking or would destroy Nate’s computer. “If you are certain.”

“Oh yeah,” Anti dismissed. “What did yeh shitebags find?”[19]

“Well,” Nate stalled as he watched Anti walk over, he stayed braced with his stake. “Don’t break my stuff.”

“I won’t,” Anti smiled. “Come on, we got some loser ta[8] find.”

“That “loser” is also a past version of you,” Nate pointedly reminded.

“Watch it, meatbag,” Anti warned. “If he wanted ta[8] stay alive, he shouldn’ta[20] died.”

“Eloquent,” Henrik commented.

“Shut,” Anti hissed back.

“Do you remember your country of origin?” Nate asked. “I’ve got several different deaths from lightning storms and factory accidents from the past 150—”

“I ne’er[21] worked in a factory,” Anti huffed, before mentally stalling because he couldn’t remember how he knew that, just that he did.

“Really?” Nate commented without even blinking. “That helps narrow it down. Means you only could have died from lightning if you’re as old as Mare says you are.”

“Mare needs ta[8] learn ta[8] keep his trap shut,” Anti scoffed.

“You were right there when he told me that, and you didn’t say anything,” Nate reminded.

Anti looked away from him, “I don’t remember this, it didn’t happen.”

“Anyways, do you remember where you came from?” Nate turned back to his computer. “I know the Septics first met you in Ireland, but are you from there too?”

“Been ta a lot ‘a places,”[22] Anti shrugged. “How am I supposed ta[8] know?”

“Well it vould[23] make it easier,” Henrik reminded.

Anti rolled his eyes, “I woke up in Australia. I hitched a ride on several hosts until I got ta[8] Ireland. I don’t know if I died there, my first ten years were a blur.”

“You are Australian?” Henrik was staring at Anti.

“No.” Hunching his shoulders up defensively, Anti glared at the doctor, “Maybe? I can’t remember. What’s it ta[8] yah[7]?”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” Henrik rushed to say. “I just . . . it is a good thing.”

Nate and Anti just stared at him, neither of them sure which direction to take that comment, but Henrik wasn’t looking Anti in the eyes anymore. He was glancing at Anti though, a lot.

But with a country narrowed down, Nate was able to eliminate several different possible candidates. Until there were five people left, four men and one woman. Mostly because it wasn’t unheard of for gender changes to occur when a human became a demon.

“Okay,” Nate said. “We have: Caleb Carson, Hannah Laverty, Brendan O’Heyne, Angus Collins, and Joe Morrin. Does anyone sound familiar, I don’t see any pictures so . . .”

Anti’s brain felt clouded, like there was something wrong but he couldn’t place it. He felt the urge to stab something and run. Like he was in danger.

“Anti? Are you alright?” Henrik asked, there was a look on Anti’s face that the German doctor hadn’t seen on him before.

Anti’s attention drifted towards one of the names in particular. He had no memories left of that person.

Much of that person was gone now, eroded away by time, but snippets remained. Being arrested for something . . . feeling disgusting inside afterwards . . .

. . . Feeling sick as the boat wouldn’t stop shaking the world around him . . .

. . . The heat of the sun burning his skin, almost hot as the anger that burned inside of him . . .

. . . And then a deafening CRACK as he felt like his body was exploding with pain. And how they’d just . . .

“They left me there,” Anti remembered, his form glitching erratically. “They left my fookin’[24] corpse ta[8] rot!”

“Anti‽” Henrik called out but the two humans watched Anti violently shatter apart in a discorporation.

Nate surged up immediately and took out an amulet necklace. One he had once’s a while ago to safely carry Mare around. But he used his magic to scoop up as much of Anti’s aura as possible to keep him from fracturing.

“Vat[25] happened?” Henrik demanded.

“He must have remembered something,” Nate tried to calm Henrik down as he was casting spells to see how violent the discorporation was, “I don’t think it was a good thing.”

Henrik snatched the necklace away, looking at it. “Vill[17] he be alright?”

“He still seems to be in one piece, but it might take a while for him to reform,” Nate warned.

“I zink ve should stop,”[26] Henrik looked over at Nate’s laptop. “If I had known his reaction vould have been zis violent I vould have stopped ven he confronted us.”[27]

“Yeah,” Nate agreed and watched Henrik put the necklace on. “Be careful with him, an injured demon’s a more dangerous one.”

“I vill[17],” Henrik promised, and gathered up his stuff with a stiff thank you for Nate’s help and the doctor went over to his apartment with the necklace. Anti took a couple of days to reform, but he didn’t talk to Henrik. The demon would escape the necklace and then slip back in whenever Henrik was distracted or busy.

After almost a week since the incident at Nate’s house, Henrik decided that, if Anti wasn’t going to talk to him, Henrik would talk to Anti. He started out small, complaining about the coffee machine at the hospital, about how muggy the weather was.

Then, one night, while Henrik was sitting on his couch, watching some TV show, or at least had it on in the background while he was staring down at the necklace in his hands, the doctor decided to be a bit more blunt. He watched the gem, saw almost like glitchy lightning crackling underneath the surface. “I must admit, part of ze[28] reason I went digging vas[16] to get a reaction out of you.”

There was a pause to the energy in the necklace. But after a bit the glitched lightning continued as if nothing had happened.

“If you do not vant to talk about zis matter, I vill not force you,”[29] Henrik told him. “But I had hoped to get a violent reaction out of you, not to actually harm you. For zat[9] I am sorry.”

Anti’s aura shot out of the necklace was just staring at Henrik. “Why was that what yeh were goin’ fer?”[30]

“You have tried to kill me und[31] my friends many times, und[31] I vanted[32] to get you to attack me,” Henrik admitted.

“Why?” Anti scoffed, plopping down on Henrik’s couch. “If I wanted yeh[7] dead, I would’a[33] done it already.”

He took glared at him. “Zat[9] is exactly the problem, you have zis[15] odd stalking infatuation but you have tried to kill me in the past. Not to mention you utterly ruined Average’s marriage und[31] his ability to visit his children.”

“The fooker was gettin’ cucked an’ e’eryone knew it,”[34] Anti dismissed.

“She vas doin’ no’zing of ze sort,”[35] Henrik defended heatedly.

Anti looked away angrily.

The two sat in angry silence for a little while, before Henrik sighed, taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose before carefully putting them back on. “Anti, vat do you vant out of zese interactions ve have?”[36]

The glitch demon decided he would rather talk about literally anything else, but his only other option was talking about his former human life and he wasn’t sure which made him look worse. “I like it when yeh[7] get angry at me.”

“Is it simply ze[28] anger or ze[28] attention?” Henrik asked, genuinely trying to understand.

Anti still wasn’t looking at him, deciding that he’d rather take the human talk. “My name used ta[8] be somethin’[37] else.”

“Vich[38] do you prefer?” Henrik asked.

“Anti,” Anti told him hesitantly.

“Zen[39] you are Anti,” Henrik agreed. “As you said, zat[9] man is dead, und[31] you are here.”

Something in Anti’s chest tightened, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like even the reminder that he was human. But he started leaning over towards Henrik. It was just a little bit of a lean, not enough to even get near Henrik. So the doctor closed the distance for him, lightly resting his shoulder against Anti’s.

“I zink zat you like the attention, vich I am more zen happy to give to you,”[40] Henrik smiled at him as Anti still refused to hold eye contact with him. “Und ven you know vat you vant, you can tell me in your own time.”[41]

For the rest of the night the two of them sat in almost near silence. Anti wasn’t ready to admit anything, but still tantalizingly close all the same. Anti getting closer and close to Henrik until the doctor was pressed up against the side of the couch and Anti was leaning against him. Anti sat next to Henrik as the doctor just ran his fingers through his hair. Anymore and Anti would have started hissing and pulling away. But as he leaned into the touch the glitch decided that he liked this attention.

Henrik occasionally looked over at Anti, smiling at him.

And if, as he scratched his fingers across his scalp, heard him give out very quiet purring sounds, the doctor decided not to tease the glitch demon about them . . . at least not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: Anti in his AU used to be a man by the name of Angus (Jack’s “survivalist” character he made super early in his channel and in this AU Angus was arrested and sent to Australia where he subsequently died from a freak lightning storm, and then cue villain arc.

Side note: Henrik likes Anti’s Australian accent, he likes it a lot! No I will not back down from this extremely unpopular headcanon.

Accessibility Translations:

1. have to

2. have

3. None of your fucking business

4. Okay

5. him

6. Fuck

7. you

8. to

9. that

10. Why the fuck are you digging into my personal shit?

11. Because there is much I don’t know about you, and I wish to correct that

12. I can’t recall a time when we have ever talked about anything

13. looking

14. for

15. this

16. was

17. will

18. Whatever you two assholes want to dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor of dying, go ahead. Here, I’ll even help.

19. What did you shitbags find?

20. shouldn’t have

21. never

22. I’ve been to a lot of places

23. would

24. fucking

25. What

26. I think we should stop

27. If I had known his reaction would have been this violent I would have stopped when he confronted us.

28. the

29. If you do not want to talk about this matter, I will not force you

30. Why was that what you were going for?

31. and

32. wanted

33. would have

34. The fucker was getting cucked and everyone knew it

35. She was doing nothing of the sort

36. Anti, what do you want out of these interactions we have?

37: something

38. which

39. then

40. I think that you like the attention, which I am more then happy to give to you

41. And when you know what you want, you can tell me in your own time.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #birthday post #footnotes #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #Nathan Sharp #Antistein #Doctor Glitch #Anti trying desperately to run away from his emotions #finally some relationship progress #Anti's just a scraggly alley cat that doesn't know how to get a home #Anti has feels #angst and feels

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crysta-cub · 5 years ago

Text

Daylight’s Edge

Edge wakes up during the day and isn't sure why he has awoken. When he finds his family is in trouble there is no doubt in his mind that he would do something about it. A Gift piece for @itsladykit‘s Atypical stories. :3

my inspiration for this piece

AO3

Edge’s sockets slitted open slowly. His body felt like lead, the magic coursing through his mana-lines was sluggish as his mind felt foggy and muddled. It wasn’t right, not at all. He felt around the bed to find it empty. He could have sworn he fell asleep with Rus laying right behind him. The sex demon usually stayed in bed, enjoying the vampire’s cuddles closeness and the potential for post waking intimacy, but it wasn’t too unusual for the demon to seek out the company of the other members of the castle.

Something in Edge told him that he wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Very little could arouse the vampire from his dead sleep. There was the occasional exception of one of his lovers in distress, though they tended to be close enough to be wrapped up in his arms to settle them down. The castle was silent, not a sound to be heard. So why in the world was he awake?

Edge blinked his heavy eye sockets, he heard it, it was faint but there was a sound coming from outside. With more effort than he cared to admit, Edge pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to distinguish what those sounds were. It couldn't be that dragon, he had flown out on one of his ‘patrols’ just the other night and probably wouldn’t be back for another night or so. That is if Twist didn’t get distracted by something shiny, the damn wyrm. Cash and Rus have taken to avoiding each other so bickering has fallen to the nill side as of late, much to his skull’s blessing. Pup’s garden was on the other side of the castle, so it couldn’t be him or the forest spirit milling about.

Edge pushed off the bed, wobbling on his feet, ‘like a newborn baby deer’ Twist once rattled off some ancient time ago. Edge remembered the dragon earning a shoe to the face for that comment. He stumbled over to the window, heavy curtains drawn to keep out any semblance of light from attempting to trickle in. He just wanted to know what the noise beyond the curtain was and why it had woken him from his slumber.

Peaking between the curtains, the vampire was reminded how bright the sun could be, flinching before adjusting to the sting and looking outside. His sockets widen at the sight that laid out before him. Out across the field, where the road met the forest stood a group of men. One was dragging Rus, bound and unconscious, red splashed over his cranium, towards a wagon. Within the wagon thrashed the Siren, muzzle over his already silenced face, bound so tight, Edge could already make out some bruises.

Then there was Pup on his knees, half formed and gripping at either ropes or chains that connected at his neck, held by two of the men on opposite sides of him. The Werewolf was growling at a burly looking man with a hunter insignia on his chest, walked around the wagon and lifted a heavy sap and struck Cash across the skull, causing the siren’s movements to cease. Edge really tasted marrow as the same human walked up to Pup, belted out a laugh before kicking the wolf in the chest, knocking him down with a yelp.

Edge turned swiftly, throwing on a discarded pair of trousers before going for his cloak, only to find the article missing. Thinking fast, the vampire yanked a sheet from the bed and tied it over his shoulders creating a semblance of a hood. It may have been thin, but would make due as some form of protection against the accursed sun. With a harsh yank, Edge pulled the decorative sword that graced the wall over his dresser, dull but was better than nothing. Without a second thought Edge leaped out of the window, landing hard on the ground before dashing towards those that dared to harm his family.

The men surrounding the wagon, laughed and jeered at the monsters they had captured. The Hunter sneered down at Pup as the one dragging Rus approached.

“Oy, got teh demon Boss, put up a bit o’ a fight, but those rags yah gave me, really did tah trick in knocking ‘im out aftah the scuffle.” The man hefted Rus up in his arms before tossing the demon into the wagon, onto the siren like a sack of potatoes. “Should git a fair price from teh king on these lots.”

“So long as we bring ‘em in alive,” The burly man boomed. “The King likes ta witness their destruction himself. Such pitiful creatures. Their protector gone and guardian warded off. Nothing but simple prey at that. Thought we’d have more of a struggle from this one but seems this pathetic beast couldn’t even fully shift before we brought him down.”

“We still haveta fin’ teh vampire, sir, wasn’t in the rooms of tah other side, had one more wing to search en.” The brute dusted his hands. “Should be ‘sleepin’ like tah ded at that. Easiest of em all ta git.”

Pup let out a whine as he struggled against his bonds, feeling his energy being strangely zapped. There was a dark chuckle from above as he glanced up to see the burly man raising the sap high above his head, “Say night night wolfie.”

A sudden commotion in the group distracted the large man from striking down the werewolf. The man turned to see one of his men gripping at a sword speared through his midsection before falling to the ground. Left standing was the heavily panting Vampire, the sheet turned cloak left askew over his head.

Edge glared down the larger man, before dodging out of the way of another of the attackers, hefting up the sword to knock him in the gut.

“Oh ho ho,” The large male laughed, “The Vamp be awake. He’s a feisty one at that.”

“Let them go, hunter.” Edge growled at him, eye-lights blazing crimson. Edge stalked forward, nearly stumbling over himself as his strength faltered.

The man belted out a laugh. “Look at you, vampire, can barely stand. What makes you think I’m afraid of you. You barely have any strength to hold that sword.”

“I don’t have to be at full strength to take on the likes of you.” Edge charged at the man, heaving the sword to strike. The man withdrew his own sword to block and push back Edge with a terrible smirk across his face. Edge stumbled backwards, stepping on the sheet a few times before he caught his balance. Another member of the hunter’s party charged at Edge, daggers drawn. Edge dodge back, feeling the sheet loosen over his shoulders as he tripped up the attacker and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of the sword, causing the human to fall to the ground, face straight in a puddle of mud.

Edge swayed on his feet, magic beading as sweat on his brows. He could hear Pup whining towards him as he fought his restraints. Edge ignored him, keeping his eye-lights trained on the hunter, even as his vision doubled. The drain from the sun was hitting him hard, he nearly missed the shorter man circling behind him and jumped on his back.

Edge cried out, dropping the sword and using his sharp claws to dig in and score the attacker’s arms. The man howled in his ear canal before Edge threw him off of his back. The sheet came completely undone, exposing Edge fully to the sun’s unforgiving rays. Edge didn’t have time for his legs to falter as a large object connected with his ribs, hearing a crack as he was sent flying towards the wagon.

Edge groaned as he felt pain fire up in his chest, turning over to look at the hunter, tree branch in hand.

“You should stay down Vampire. Why fight a losing battle, eh?” The hunter mocked before grabbing Edge by the ribcage and hoisting him up into the air. “You don’t stand a chance against me.”

Edge reached out and sank his claws into the man’s arm, causing him to hiss in pain. The Hunter lifted the vampire higher into the air before throwing him down at the wagon. Edge cried out as he heard a few more cracks he was sure was not from the wooden frame. As he slid down the wagon’s side, Edge caught onto one of the warding, ripping it in half. Edge breathed raggedly as he glared up at the human defiantly.

“I didn’t have to fight you to beat you, just enough to buy him time.” At that moment a large shadow flew across the field followed by a ferocious roar. The Hunter looked up as he took a step back. “Also,” Edge coughed out, holding the ruined warding sheet in his hand, “what happens when you lose one of these?” Edge fell back, sight fading before he could see the look on the hunter’s face. The last thing Edge heard before falling into the grasp of unconsciousness was the sound of childlike laughter and the screams of men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twist landed next to Pup, partially formed, ripping the bonds that held and drained him. Pup was up in an instant rushing over towards Edge. “Get him inside, Now. I’ll get the other two once I’m done here.”

Pup nodded frantically before scooping Edge up in his arms and rushing back to the castle. Edge was light in his arms, too light. All Pup could hope for was that they weren’t going to be too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could feel his chest rise and fall with a faint ache in his ribs as he began to stir into consciousness. A large tale-tell warmth wrapped around him on his right while another presence, projecting healing/comfort/support/care/safety/security/love curled up to his left. His first blink was barely a twitch, while the second one offered shadows and haze, the following grating more clarity.

Without warning, his face was grasped by bony hands and he was met with a searing kiss. Edge inhaled deeply as he attempted to follow and return it only to pull back and hiss in pain as his ribs flared up.

“sorry, sorry. you’re still healing.” Rus began to apologize, pushing Edge back down into the large nest of blankets and pillows. “you had us so worried, precious. you’ve been out for a few nights.”

Edge reached out to Rus with a shaky hand to cup his cheekbone, stroking his jaw before Rus’ own hand joined his and held him there. “Didn’t mean to worry you.” Edge grimaced at the sound of his hoarse voice.

Twist rumbled beside him, shifting into a better position. He was still partially shifted into his dragon form, watching the exits intensely and poise, ready to strike any that dared to invade. “We tried ta get some magic in ya, Love, got ‘nough ta make sure ya don’ dust on us.” Twist swallowed before glancing down at the injured vampire before adding sternly. “We’ll need ta hav’ ya feed ta take care o’ ta rest, precious.”

Edge stiffened at the thought, breath held as his gaze began to slip from their locked position on Rus.

Twist expression softened. “Not right now tho. Later, when yer feelin’ more comfortable, yea?”

Edge let out a breath at the compromise and nodded. He glanced around the room before asking with a croak. “Where are Pup and Cash?”

Rus looked torn between affection and annoyance. “though none of us really wanted to leave your side, some needs still needed to be met. they volunteered to make dinner.” Rus was quick to hold Edge down as the vampire attempted to rise. “whoa, there. they’re being very careful. nothing too difficult. seemed ya managed to teach fish brains a thing or two about cooking, though he and twisted have enjoyed a few raw meals.” Rus lowered Edge's hand and bent to kiss his forehead. “nothing to worry your pretty little head over. you’re going to be taking it easy for a few more days, ok precious.”

Edge grunted at the thought before slumping into the blankets once again. His ribs were already protesting all of the movements he’s been making. His attention was soon turned towards the door as Pup and Cash made their appearance. Both carried a tray heaping with food, and appeared surprised, as well as relieved, to see Edge awake. Pup brought in his tray and placed it at the foot of the bed before going back for Cash’s, allowing the siren to take his plate. All the while Cash and Rus were locked in a heated glare off. Cash positioned himself at the door frame to guard the entrance as well as spike some glares back at Rus.

Rus settled in close, taking a helping of food. He poured a pitcher of water before helping to ease Edge up to drink. “I know it’s not magic, but this should help some.” Rus purposely ignored Cash as he helped serve Edge with a few bites of food.

After the first few bites, Edge turned towards Pup and Cash. “This is good, thank you.”

Pup smiled sheepishly before nodding his acceptance, while Cash shrugged it off to look out into the empty hallway.

Once the food was devoured and dishes cleared, everyone seemed to settle in around Edge. Twist never really moved from his spot, though the purr he was emitting did seem to amp up. Rus snuggled in close, being mindful of Edge’s ribs while Pup curled into a spot between Edge and Twist, head tucked right under his arm.

The only one who still didn’t join in the bed was Cash, stubbornly staying at the doorway, glancing back at the group periodically. Edge could feel his sockets grow heave, sensing that the sun was about to rise. Catching Cash’s eye, Edge attempted to wave the siren to join them while ignoring the roll of the Sex demon’s eye-lights. Cash seemed to startle before turning to look back out the door.

With the heaviest of agitated sighs, Rus teleported over to Cash before grabbing him and teleporting him back onto the bed, nearly shoving the siren into Pup’s arms. Cash silently hissed at Rus, allowing the werewolf to pull him into the nest. Rus flipped him off in response and curled back in next to Edge. “go to sleep, fish breath.” Rus growled, nuzzling into the crook of Edge’s neck.

Pup began to stroke Cash’s coronal suture to calm him down, smiling peacefully between the skeleton in his arms and the ones by his side. The last thing Edge saw, as he drifted to sleep, was Twist’s frame, still on guard as his wing carefully folded protectively over the nest. Edge didn’t need their projections to know that he was safe, secure, loved and at peace.

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ninaahelvar · 5 years ago

Text

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (12/23)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: IM ON A FUCKING ROLL THIS MONTH! i might try to get chapter 13 out by the end of the year, but we'll see! it's been a crazy month, and I hope everyone has been enjoying an almost regular update from me. but hey! we're half way!!!!! just a heads up, there's blood mentioned in this chapter? don't know if that's an issue for people, but a heads up in case!

A numb ache held her in bed for what felt like days. In actuality, it had been a week - the news broke, and the same day it was all over. A public announcement was made, and the wording made Arya furious. She was angry and depressed, and she knew it was all because of her family, what Gendry thought of her family. Everything about Arya’s life made her angry.

With the public now in full awareness, the Princess Arya would like to say the following. Her relationship with her Bodyguard was one that held little significance, and as of today, the relationship has ended. This has no direct result from being acknowledged by the public in any way, but it is requested that both parties have their privacy respected, especially those to which have no protection or affiliation with the royal family directly.

What bullshit. She knew how her family had to play it, but it was still bullshit, and the public knew it too. Like Arya would ever say such fucking shit in her life, but it was done and said - the stance taken that Arya was a flippant princess, ready for a fling and to discard them whenever possible. That was who she used to be, it wasn’t her anymore. She wanted love, she wanted security, she wanted more than just being royal - Arya wanted to be happy with her life. And the fact that it was blown apart by one person, she felt sick.

That trust was something she shouldn’t give outside of her family. Part of her thought it wasn’t right to do that, to build walls was against who she was. But walls could have kept her safe, they would have prevented her heart from breaking like it did that day. She was alone once more, unhappy with her life, and rebellion built back into her veins. She’d be running again, and it made her scared that it would always be like this, to be the princess that everyone thought was a scandal. That she wasn’t worth more than the snickering and gossip at events.

Arya thought she may have deserved it.

And so, her sanctuary became her bed - the safety of her blanket weighing down her floating body, one too numb to feel herself grounded. It provided the warmth she missed from Gendry’s arms, and gave her every bit of comfort she needed. Until it didn’t. She’d toss and turn at night, feeling herself cry into her pillow like some lovesick fool that couldn’t get it through her head that she deserved better.

But Arya didn’t want better, she wanted Gendry. She needed him like air, to be with him like he were the clothes on her back. It didn’t matter how much she was in pain, or how desperately her heart wanted relief from seeing his face in her mind, it just meant that had Gendry. He’d break her and heal her in the end, and she hated him for it.

By week’s end, she hadn’t been online, she hadn’t read the texts from her family, she had barely left the radius of her bed - it felt hopeless to move when she could possibly break. Mostly, she hated the fact that she could be broken like this. It was all she could think about when the pain was overwhelming; how did Arya Stark of Winterfell become a fallen woman, too stupid to leave her broken heart behind her and get on with life.

A knock came to her door, and Arya barely budged as the door crept open. When the person came into her room, she sprung up and felt herself become alive with an emotion she hadn’t quite deciphered. Gendry had a tray in his hands, food filling plates and glasses with water and juice inside.

Gendry looked slightly different than the last time she’d seen him. He wasn’t cleanly shaven like he usually was, stubble that was patchy and unkept, his clothes were casual as though they were going into town, but it wasn’t coordinated in any way. Arya was happy he looked like a mess - served him right, he needed to be the disaster he was before they had met, she thought.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting up in her bed to fold her arms and scowl at him.

“I heard from Hot-pie that you aren’t eating. I came with food,” he cleared his throat, moving further into her room, but he was cautious with each step he took.

Arya gripped into her arms, finding her courage in the pain. It reminded her why she shouldn’t have been happy to see him, that getting him back was a fruitless endeavour. They would never be again. It was so short, yet the happiest time of her life. It wasn’t the case anymore. “Get out. It’s clear that you didn’t love me, you were just using me.”

Gendry huffed, setting down the tray in front of her. “Arya, I do love you, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s over.”

Arya felt the spike in rage, and all forms of restraint that she held were lost in a moment. Shooting up from the bed, she stormed to him, kicking the tray along the way, the dishes and glasses all shattering around.

“You love me, but only on the condition that we remained secret!? That I was some fucked up prize you won by fucking royalty!” she yelled, agony in her words. She hadn’t even stopped herself when Gendry toppled over on the carpet, fear backing him to a corner, then having him scrambling on the ground. When he landed, his head hit straight against the chest of drawers that sat close by. Still, all she wanted to do was hold him by the collar and yell until her voice was hoarse. She saw the blood that had formed on forehead or one that seeped through his shirt. She didn’t care in that moment.

“I never said that,” Gendry said, trying to stand back up, but he faltered, his eyes blinking

“You either loved me without conditions, or with them. We both know which way your heart leaned.” She yelled over him as he laid sprawled out on the floor. He stared up at her, his chest deflating as her words tore into him. Truth spilled and the damage was done. Arya backed away, moving across the glass and getting back into her bed.

In a second, Brienne came shooting into the room, scowling at the mess around. “What the hell is going on in -” she began to shout before she turned to see Gendry on the floor, and bleeding, and gasped softly. “Gendry, you’re - oh my god, we have to get you to a hospital,” she said, examining him. Brienne managed to get Gendry to his feet, and he held onto the spot on his head, still being held upright by his superior.

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” He stared at Arya, the line of blood dropping down the side of his temple. He finally looked like she felt - battered, bruised, hurt.

“Gendry, if I can see a gaping would in your face, I’m going to send you to the hospital. You could have a concussion for all I know!”

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing before he was escorted away. The room was left in silence, a chaotic mess of pain and heartache, all strewn across the space where their love had once filled it.

Arya fell back to her bed, her stomach aching from the lack of food, and her heart straining from her day.

From the time that Gendry and Brienne had left, Arya watching them from the window as they drove away, it was a total of five minutes before Sansa came storming into Arya’s room, throwing open the doors like she were an all powerful queen like she so desperately deserved. Yet, Arya hated that passion, for the moment anyhow, because it meant that Arya had to acknowledge whatever her sister had to say at some point, because she was always right.

“Arya, what did you do?” Sansa shouted. Arya had found herself in bed again, curling her blankets around her and watching as Sansa stepped over the mess that had now befallen Arya’s room.

“I don’t know. I just reacted,” Arya huffed, trying to settle back into her bed with a slumber that could drown out heartache. It was a far reach, Arya knew, but she could only pray to all the Gods, all and new, for some form of relief. She suspected one built on rage and war helped her when Gendry had stepped into the room.

“That’s not a reaction,” Sansa said, standing in front of Arya’s bed, arms folded and scowling at Arya like it had always been a face that Sansa had when she looked at her. Arya jumped up from her bed, throwing a pillow from the plentiful bunch that hid on her bed, hitting Sansa in a heavy lump.

“Don’t say I’m overreacting! I’m allowed to feel like this!” Arya snapped.

“I never said you aren’t, but you sent the guy to the hospital!” Sansa replied, voice just as raised, and just as angry.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him like that, but he deserved it,” Arya defended and the look of shock on Sansa’s face made Arya’s stomach drop. Why did she have to look at Arya like that? Like she had done something so wrong? Arya knew what she had done, and she stood by it.

“Who have you become if you think making another human being bleed is worth the pain they caused you?”

Arya breathed in a ragged breath, snarling back at Sansa. “You’re judging me now?”

“For this? Yeah. Arya, he broke up with you, it hurts like hell, but he’s still someone you love. And you just...you hurt him. Physically hurt him,” she reiterated, “no amount of emotional pain you’re feeling will ever amount to physically harming another person,” she scolded, and the anger in her was something that only their mother could have infused in them. It made Arya feel sick, like she were still a child in need of a talking to.

“Just leave,” Arya spat, tossing over in bed.

“Get back to me when you’re not maiming people for your own pain relief,” she huffed, moving out of Arya’s room in a split second, slamming the door behind her and making Arya jump in surprise.

As sun set, Arya’s stomach turning and grumbling for something that wasn’t just air, she moved from her bed. She went to her window, expecting to see someone there, but no one stood under her window smiling at her and trying to disguise the fact they were hiding a cigarette behind their back. Glancing back to her room, she was met with the mess she created, knowing her fault may not have laid with their relationship, but the aftermath sure as hell did.

She started with her bed, making it to no longer be a mess. Covering over the love that had once creased its way into the lining linen, smoothing out her pain, and making sure only the memory would fade over time. Then, she picked up each shard of glass and porcelain. Pushing chairs to where they needed to be, fixing up her room to be her own and not the painful loss of someone that could only respond with little empathy to her.

Then, she changed, moving out of her room and walked to her sister’s door, walking past the threshold and standing awkwardly at the brink of her room.

“So,” Arya spoke and Sansa, who was on her bed, smiling into her phone, turned and tossed it aside, a scowl replacing the job she was once feeling.

“You going to throw something at me now?”

“No.” Arysa cleared her throat, moving towards her sister, admitting something that wanted to get trapped at the back of her throat. “I just need a hug,” she said, voice quiet and her bottom little trembling. Why did she feel so scared.

Sansa softened, opening her arms up and beckong Arya in.

“Come here.” Arya barely needed the answer from her sister and she was already colliding down onto her, holding Sansa with all the effort her arms would allow.

“I don’t want to talk about it, I just -”

Arya stuttered before Sansa hugged her closer, kissing at her crown. “Then we won’t talk. It’s okay,” she murmured. Arya hadn’t felt herself cry like that since her family were dying in that car wreck. It didn’t matter, it felt like she had lost something just as important as family. She’d lost a piece of herself that was found within him - joy that only he could bring out, and it was forced out of her hands without even a second word.

“Why couldn’t he want me as his family?” Arya cried, admitting the insecurity that had taken root when he left her that day. The way his words dug into her and tore about her sanity - why couldn’t he want her? Want her to be more? Want her to protect him for once? She could have done it with little effort, and yet, he took off like their time together meant nothing. She just needed to cry.

Sansa held Arya tighter, as though the words were so painful to hear that it made sense suddenly why Arya was acting like a fool.

By the time that her tears that stopped, Sansa had gotten food to the room, and Arya was able to eat all the things she had avoided, picking at things to get the smallest amount until she was able to stomach more.

For most of the night, they talked about everything else. They talked about Sansa’s man - who was now becoming two possible men as Sansa spoke about it being just as risky as Arya’s love for Gendry. Arya concluded that it could still possibly be Theon, but Sandor was just as easy a target. He hung around her, fawned over her even. Could Sansa find him a possibility? She did have a very kind heart, one that could overlook that man’s many, many flaws. He wasn’t the best to be around, kind of a bastard if Arya thought about it. But Sansa laughed with him, made him laugh sometimes too. It made sense.

Then, they talked about Robb, and how Jon was very close to proposing to Ygritte at the reception. It wasn’t until midway through their conversation that Sansa remembered that Jon did in fact propose to Ygritte, the night of the reception, when they ready to leave each other. They were hidden away and Jon actually got down on one knee. Jon was going to tell everyone until Arya’s news broke and kind of spoiled the whole surprise. It wasn’t until the next night that Jon told the family. Arya hadn’t been there.

In all, Arya spent the night with Sansa, forgetting the pain for a few hours, laughing with her sister and best friend, full of love that she had been so separated from. Arya thought she didn’t deserve it if Gendry was so willing to leave. But it had always surrounded her, willing to give at a breaths notice. She loved being loved, and having someone that meant the world to her, knowing they could never leave.

Night came, Arya went back to bed, and didn’t dread the sleep that came. Although they were dreams that were filled with Gendry, they didn’t feel painful, just sharp memories that would fade into nothing with time. Waking, she didn’t cry and beg for the day to end again, she just woke and ordered breakfast to her room, eating alone and undisturbed as she forgot the dreams that had held her during the night. It wasn’t painful. Just a dream that meant something to her.

It didn’t take long for her morning to be disturbed. Arya was busy flicking through her phone, blocking most things that brought up the week old scandal, and knowing it would be out of the news eventually. It still hurt to see a name that shouldn’t have been treated like that. A knock had come at her door, taking Arya’s attention from her phone.

“Arya,” a soft voice said at her door. Arya rolled in her bed, seeing her mother closing the door behind her. Arya rolled back over, cuddling her blankets closer to her chest.

“What is it, mum?” she grumbled. Her mother was slow to make her way to her, but she eventually sat down, the weight shifting as she sat at Arya’s feet. Catelyn’s hand rested on one of Arya’s legs hidden beneath her sheets.

“I want to apologise for how I handled everything.”

“You were right,” Arya sighed, allowing her mum to see her. Catelyn shifted higher, sitting close enough to comfortably cup Arya’s cheek. It was a touch that she had found wonderful when Gendry had done it, but now, it was a comfort she welcomed by her mother. She had sorrowful eyes.

“Darling,” she whispered, “your happiness is all I ever truly want. I know I’m hard on you, but I don’t do it on purpose. I want everything in your life to be perfect, and I must have put that pressure on you. What I truly wish is that you are loved and cared for, that you know you have a purpose other than being a princess. It’s why I wanted to push you in the direction of your charity causes. I thought it would drive you to be less reckless and more passionate.”

“It did.”

“But that boy…” she started, before she closed her eyes. “But because of Gendry, I lost sight of what made you happy. I should have been more supportive, helped you work it all out,” she tried and Arya shook her head.

“It wouldn’t have done anything.” She sat up, looking at her mum and holding onto her hand. “Thank you, for apologising. You didn’t need to, but thank you,” she nodded. Catelyn leaned forward, kissing Arya’s forehead.

“I love you, my little wolf pup,” she said, holding Arya close and for the first time in a long time, she felt the love that her mother could only give.

For once, it felt good to be Arya and Catelyn, mother and daughter, held in an embrace that could convey words that neither of them could quite say. It was what they needed, to free burdened hearts, and act on the things that held back two stubborns fools.

For the rest of the day, Arya went around the palace, being followed by Pod, who didn’t say anything to her. Usually he’d quip that she moved too fast or that she needed to be more careful, or his newest adventure with a girl or guy he’d seen out in town. Instead, she was met with silence. He was either afraid of her, or thinking of a new pick up line to use on her, which wouldn’t work.

She went to the library, looking through books that could help her build her foundation to a better extent. There were a few things she took to her bedroom, not before she visited Bran and see the new improvements to the palace to make the home more accessible to their brother. He enjoyed going down the long ramp down the main staircase, as he let the breaks go and he went down cheering. It was fun seeing her brother act like an idiot and almost enjoy the fact that he was in a wheelchair. Only a boy, she supposed.

Laying in bed, she felt like the books were sending her to sleep, her head resting in her bed, flicking between pages that seemed to spill the same words over and over again, never continuing on from the last page. She kept reading, begging the universe to claw out her eyes, but instead, she was visited by the one person she had desperately wanted to see.

“Dad!” Arya yelled, bounding out of her bed and racing to collide with her dad. He chuckled, holding her tight in his arms. He didn’t have his cane that day, but the slight stumble he had made Arya jump out of his arms and inspect him for any worse injuries. He held her cheek and smiled with his whole face. It made her heart race in joy.

“Arya, sweetheart,” he said, walking them over to the small sitting area that Arya rarely used in her room. Ned sat across from her, relaxing into the chair and Arya held onto the armrests. The look of serious discussion made it clear that the scandal was finally coming to bite her in the ass. Ned sighed before he spoke. “Don’t feel bad for falling in love, and having your heart broken. It hurts, but it happens. I doubt he meant to hurt you to the depths that he has.” Arya swallowed, looking down at her lap and wishing that this wasn’t happening to her. “I looked in on him myself after I heard about you,” he said, and Arya shot her attention back to him.

“Why did you do that?”

“Did you know that on that morning alone, his mother was harassed by people on the street? That paparazzi came to her place of work and tried to get information from her about Gendry to publish in the paper? They haven’t opened the pub since the article came out.”

“What?” she replied, a breath of surprise escaping her before she could trap it behind her teeth. All he did was nod to her surprise.

“I heard that he said something to you, something about choosing between you and his family.”

Arya swallowed again. “He did.”

“We do the things to protect those we love. Sometimes, that hurts the people we love too. I have it on good authority to tell you, that boy loves you more deeply than either of you realise. But his mother has been, and always will be, his family. She’s all he’s ever known. He did what he thought was best to protect the closest person in his life.”

“Why did he have to hurt me?” Arya asked, trying not to sound so pained, but it had already come out.

“He had no way of knowing what it would truly do. To either of you,” he said, and Arya furrowed her brow.

“Either of us? Can’t you see I’m a mess?” Arya scoffed, falling back into the chair and sliding down to sink into it.

Ned scoffed to that. “Sweetheart, have you even notice that he hasn’t been your bodyguard for the whole week?”

“What? I saw him just the other day.”

“He hasn’t been working. He came to get his things, I guess he visited you shortly before you sent him to the hospital.”

“He didn’t get fired, did he?” Arya bit at her lip, trying to restrain herself after her outburst, holding back the fact that she did still care. Her father always saw right through her.

“No. But I gave him leave. He wasn’t in good shape.” Ned confessed. How didn’t Arya not notice that Gendry wasn’t himself? Did she no longer care or was she just so filled with self pity that she didn’t care. “I love you, Arya, and I will not take sides because you know how biased I am,” he laughed and Arya did too, “but I don’t think you were the only person broken that day.”

Arya chewed on her lip before she looked up to her father, sympathy in his eyes. “Can you take me somewhere?” she asked. To that, he gave one single nod.

All she wanted to do was forget it all happened, that her life hadn’t crumbled down around her because of him. But it happened, it was a part of her, a part of them and who they would be walking forward. They couldn’t erase the pain they had caused each other, nor would it do any good to glaze over broken pieces that were so clearly their razor edge anger.

Ned waited in the car as Arya moved up the flight of stairs she had once found comforting. A secret hide away when she gripped into the banister, racing ahead of him as he laughed behind her, fingers at her waist as he got his keys from his back pocket. Now, she waited for a response from a knock that lacked any true power.

A few moments later, Gendry answered the door. Her father was right, he looked like a mess, no shave for a week, his clothes stained with whatever meal he may have had two days before. He didn’t care how he looked. Now, he had two added bandaged to to the bunch, covering up stitches that she inflicted upon him. “Arya, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to say sorry,” she said with a shaky breath.

“Did you want to come in?” he asked, stepping aside.

“I can’t stay long,” she told him, moving past him.

“I should -”

“I shouldn’t have thrown that at you. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she interrupted, raising her chin, trying to seem like she strong. He didn’t believe her, she could tell. But it didn’t matter, he would always see her.

“It’s okay, I deserved it,” he tried to play off, but Arya’s heart ached at the notion that he believed it.

“You didn’t. Even though you hurt me, it didn’t mean I could physically hurt you like that. So, I’m sorry,” she apologised.

“It’s alright, Ary - Your Highness,” he stuttered, choking on his words. Arya felt herself stiffen - even with a broken heart, she didn’t want him calling her that. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was. But the shattered mess that they were told them enough - nothing will ever get them back to the way they once were.

“I know this hasn’t been easy. For either of us, but I shouldn’t have acted like a spoiled child about it. It wasn’t right of me,” she said, ducking her head down, her lungs feeling tight. “But you have to know…” she paused, heart in her throat. “You were the only person I’ve ever loved, and the first person to break my heart too.”

“Your Hi -”

Arya interrupted again, needing to get her words out. She didn’t need him to change her mind. She was going to get through this like an adult. “It was always going to hurt more with this. With you. I saw myself spending the rest of my life with you. But that isn’t going to happen. It’ll be okay, but I’ll just be a little broken until it is -”

“Arya, please, just let me -”

“I hope to see you back at work soon. The palace isn’t the same without you.” She confessed it. She hadn’t considered it until she was left alone with her thoughts in the ride over. Gendry had made the palace feel like home, not a place she needed to escape from everyday. It had become more fun escaping with Gendry than just doing it to live her life. He drove her to be better, want for better things in her life. “I should go. I’ve been here long enough for people to notice. It won’t happen again. I hope your mum is well,” Arya said, nodding once before she gestured for the door. Gendry opened it up again, not saying a word as she left, closing the door after she left, a soft thud of an undecided man.

On the street, Arya didn’t want to get in the car. She wanted to run back up the staircase and yell at him for not fighting. Yell for him to change his mind and say she was worth it, that she’d always be worth all the pain in the end. Instead, she could only stare up at a place that she held with fond memories.

Looking at his apartment, Arya knew one thing for sure; even if her heart would mend from that moment, she’d always love Gendry, and seeing him would keep that love alive. Even if it were selfish to keep him there, to keep something alive that was so willing to die, she had hope that one day it could blossom into something else in the future. Whatever ugly, mangled thing that might be. It would be theirs, and Arya would hold it close to her heart.

Gendry looked down, waving to her.

She waved back.

And wondered if she’d always feel a little hollow saying goodbye to him.

#gendrya #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #got fic #gendrya fic #my fics #chivalry fell on its sword #cfois

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tentoriwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Nexus Fall: Battlefield Reunions

A courtyard unfurled before a towering castle. Gray pavers, smoothed by use, spread out around a massive platform. Though the platform was empty now, it seemed as if something belonged there. Water could be heard flowing nearby. Walls cordoned off the courtyard from the rest of the garden with forts and keeps spaced in the intervening area as defense.

A vast and sprawling countryside of gentle, undulating hills spread out between the blue roofed castle and a red roofed castle far in the distance. Three roads cut through the countryside to the walls of the other castle. Beyond that, it sounded like a garden party was taking place somewhere.

A shrine lay at the north and south of the country. One dedicated to the moon, one to the sun. In the center stood a huge, stone dragon statue. Something seemed to crackle just beneath the surface, almost as if the statue was alive beneath the stony veneer.

A dais, positioned directly in front of the castle gate, crackled with power before four figures seemingly appeared from thin air. In almost unison they stepped down from the dais. Three of them seemed to belong together with similar arms and armor. The fourth seemed like they were from another world entirely. Truly, they were.

“Another day, another fight! FOR THE WILDHAMMER!” A dwarf billowed from atop his gryphon.

“Enthusiastic as ever I see, Falstad.” A kingly figure with dark brown air chuckled as he glanced up at the sky. “Looks like sword and board today. We’re down a man and a healer.”

“Ain’t it a little funny? Even if they show up a bit late a fifth is always here by now…” A man in a full body suit of armor commented as he shifted his gun to his other hand. Almost as if that were a cue, the dais crackled with power again. “Speak a the devil…”

All of them turned to see who their fifth would be. The kingly figure turned a sickened shade of white immediately.

“No…” A barely audible whisper as he took a tentative step up on to the dais. “Why? Of all people… why are you here, my son?” With each step he seemed increasingly weaker. Finally, he collapsed to his knees before a flaxen haired young man. The very image of a broken man, he limply reached out to them. Finding strength in the myriad emotions welling up inside, he yanked the young man up against him tightly. Barely contained sobs buried themselves in the crook of the young man’s neck.

“Battle starts in 30 seconds.” A regal, albeit disembodied, voice echoed through the courtyard.

A dwarf in blue armor reached out and touched the grieving man on the shoulder.

“Come on! Wake up! We’re running out of time.” The king urged as he pulled himself from his sorrow.

“Ya Majesty. Yannae how this all works. He’ll be safe here.” The armored dwarf named Muradin spoke quietly and kindly.

“Aye, even if they take the core, they cannae touch ‘im ‘ere.” The gryphon riding Falstad chimed in encouragingly.

“Just... Come on, Anduin. Wake up.” The king gently shook the young man one last time.

“Come on, Wrynn. We gotta roll.”

“Right. If he’s here then I’m bound to see him again.” The king gently laid his son back down and got to his feet. A quick wipe of his face with leather gloved hands and he became a vision of seriousness. His noble features take on the shape of a king once more. Like so many times before, emotions pushed aside in favor of the stoicism necessary to lead.

“That’s the spirit!” Falstad cheered raising his hammer into the air. His gryphon squawked in seeming agreement.

“We need to figure out who we’re up against.” Sparing his son one last look, he left the dais. The others climbed on their mounts as they waited for him.

“Foolish mortal! I will feast upon your fear!” A deep voice shaded by darkness rumbled through the air like far off thunder.

“Great. It’s that guy… again... Someone really needs to tell him you can’t eat emotions…” Jim Raynor loosed a long suffering sigh before his visor clicked down.

“I hate demons…” Varian hissed under his breath. “Let’s go!” With a quick hop he was on his steed and racing toward the gate at the front of the courtyard. He glanced over his shoulder one last time.

“Light protect you, my son. Until we meet again.”

The clattering of hooves and roaring engines finally drew the young man from his slumber. Eyes slowly pried open by light and warmth coaxing him to consciousness. He sat up just in time to see a very familiar back riding away, cloak flapping in the breeze. “Father?” He blinked a few times while shaking his head and the figure disappeared beyond a gate. He got to his knees quickly and tried to call out to the figure again. Hands reached to take hold of the image but were met with nothing but air. His voice was lost to distance.

“What… is this place?” He finally took in his very foreign surroundings. “A dream?”

“You have been summoned to the Nexus.” A disembodied woman’s voice answered him.

“This… looks nothing like Northrend.” Confusion marked his features as he slowly got to his feet. He took one tentative step towards the edge of the platform.

“The name is a coincidence to the location you know.” The voice went on flatly. “The Nexus is where great heroes gather to fight.”

“For what purpose? Why are we fighting?” He took another step forward, but stopped short of going over the edge of the platform.

“That is the way of this place. Heroes are gathered to fight for lords of these realms. It helps to maintain the balance.”

“It’s some kind of arena then…? We must fight to be free of it. Is that it?”

“If that is how you choose to understand the situation.”

Any further questions were stifled by the sounds of a tremendous battle taking place beyond the gates. “Who’s fighting here now?”

Words appeared in the sky:

Blue Team

Anduin Wrynn

Falstad Wildhammer

Jim Raynor

Muradin Bronzebeard

Varian Wrynn

Red Team

Abathur, the Evolution Master

Diablo, Lord of Terror

Gul’dan

Illidan Stormrage

Miles “Blaze” Lewis

“My Father is here?! And... and… Illidan?! How is… I thought he…” Anduin’s brain came to a full stop along with his mouth left agape.

“Heroes from many different worlds and times are summoned here to fight.” The disembodied voice pulled him from his disbelief.

“Don’t let Lady Chronormu find out you are tampering with the timelines.” Anduin looked gravely serious as he shook his head to dispel his shock.

“You may have the opportunity to do so yourself in time. For now, the battle has begun. If you do not engage in combat soon you will be removed from the battle.”

“I can’t have that! My Father is out there! I have to help him!” He looked around quickly and found a chestnut mare waiting for him. He mounted the horse and rode off in the direction his Father went.

The scene that met him on the battlefield was not what he expected. Vast armies were commanded by the people whose names appeared in the sky but only 8 combatants stood out on the field. The combatants closest to him looked considerably worse for the wear, especially his Father. Varian was down on one knee leaning heavily on Shalamane.

“Damn… bested by Gul’dan and his demons again…” Varian sighed in resignation. “Regroup behind the gate! I’ll keep them busy!”

“Pitiful mortal…” A towering demon, the likes of which Anduin had never seen before, called haughtily before starting a charge right towards Varian.

“Raynor!” Muradin yelled sprinting towards Varian.

“Reloading!”

“FATHER!” Anduin screamed and Varian suddenly went flying backwards to the gate.

“Anduin?” Varian seemed wholly overcome with emotion to see his son awake again. He embraced his son tightly.

“Your wounds, Father.” Anduin quickly freed himself and began healing his father.

“Damn. Shalamane is out there.” Varian clicked his tongue as he watched the demon kick it to the side.

“Then take mine. I suspect I’ll be doing a lot of healing from back here.” Anduin pulled his Shalamane off his back and handed it to his Father. He gave his father a kind smile. “It always looked more at home in your hands than mine.”

Varian looked down at the blade then back up to his son with a conflicted look on his face. “This was not the life I wanted for you, my son.” His hand slowly wrapped around the hilt.

“I know, Father. Later.” He gave his Father a reaffirming clap on the arm. “I am here with you, right now.”

“Yes…” Dispelling all reservations, Varian took the sword and bolted back into the fray.

While Raynor laid down cover fire Varian slid down and grabbed his Shalamane before gracefully regaining his footing. He charged headlong toward the red demon.

“Thought ya said this was a sword and board match!” Falstad jeered teasingly as his hammer came flying back to his hand.

“Changed my mind!” Varian wore smug smile as he passed Falstad. “Cover the northern road!”

“Aye! LET’S FLY!”

Anduin sent a wave of light forward healing his allies before bouncing back to him.

“Always thank yer healer!” Muradin cheered as he gripped his axe tighter. Then he took a mighty leap into the air and landed a hair’s breadth away behind Gul’dan. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to this for a looong time…” There was a might crashing sound and Gul’dan went sailing through the air into the gate next to Anduin.

“You stay right there!” Chains reach up to wrap around Gu’ldan while canons rained down from above to finish him off.

“What is this place?” Anduin finally had a chance to ask as he collapsed into a sitting position on the stone courtyard of the opposing castle. Exhaustion had settled into every fiber of his being. Though he had trained after taking the throne, it had not been nearly as often enough and he could tell that now.

“They call it the Nexus. Something created it long ago and now it’s full of different realms. Each realm is ruled over by a realm lord. The acting realm lord of King’s Crest is Raena, the Lady of Thorns.” His Father explained as he offered a hand up. “It looks like the fighting is over for now so we’ll have some time to talk.”

Anduin took his Father’s hand and hoisted himself to his feet again. With great effort he mounted his chestnut mare and followed after his Father.

“I suspect since you’re still here, that means you’ll also be staying in the castle.” Varian motioned to the castle far off in the distance that was not fought over during the battle. A certain bitterness laced his words.

"Was that voice that made announcements during the battle the Queen?" Anduin's fatigue had lifted some in favor of curiosity.

"Yes. She is one of the many lords fighting over space here in the Nexus."

"Is... that why we are here to fight? For someone else to gain territory in this... bizarre place?"

"There is... quite a bit more to it than that. Once we make it to the planetarium things will make more sense."

The pair rode on talking all the way about the ins and outs of the Nexus. By the time they reached the grand castle Anduin's head felt like it might well and truly explode.

"Welcome back, King Varian!" A cheerful voice beamed as a VERY short stable hand came out to get their horses. "This must be Prince Anduin! We've been expecting you!"

"You... you have?"

"He is King Anduin. He succeeded when I was... What did happen to me exactly...?"

Anduin's face twisted up in confusion and concern at this. "Do you not remember, Father? Your fight with Gul'dan? And how you..." His voice faded off to nothing as sorrow took him. His gaze drifted away from his Father as he fought back tears.

"I remember getting on a boat to the Broken Isles but I don't remember ever getting there." Varian's answer was every bit sincere. He well and truly remembered nothing. "That is... a conversation for another time... Come, you need to see the planetarium."

Anduin thought to press the issue, but the more he thought to, the more he realized he didn't remember much of the what happened just prior to his appearance in the Nexus either.

"Quite the puzzle..."

"Take a look in this." Varian gestured to the eyepiece of the largest telescope Anduin had ever seen.

Still quite astonished by the size, he walked up to it and took a peek. He was greeted by a massive, swirling storm in the middle of space. "That's quite the storm..." He commented absently as he watched clouds roil and churn on themselves as lightning danced through them.

"Let's turn it so you can see something else." Varian turned the crank once Anduin pulled away. The telescope slowly moved in a clockwise rotation a few degrees at a time. "Look now and tell me what you see.”

Anduin obliged and what met his eyes now was wholly different than before. An endless expanse stretched before him dotted by millions of stars. Just off center of the field of view was a massive portal with a familiar world just beyond. Bathed in the light of day, it was clear to Anduin just what he was seeing. So startling was the image he fell away from the eyepiece and landed hard on the floor.

"That is... Draenor on the other side of that portal... But... The Draenor of the new timeline created by Garrosh. The one in which Valen dies and..." He stammered as his eyes shifted back and forth between his Father and the eyepiece. His hand pointed off into space shaking uncontrollably.

"Yes..." Varian nodded and smiled softly. "This place, this Nexus, is at the center of a great storm of energy that tears open rifts to other worlds, times, and dimensions. Even different versions of Azeroth." Varian walked over and offered his hand again. "There are even other versions of me here, at least Muradin has told me as much. And I suspect if you are here, I will see other versions of you in time as well."

"This is a lot to take in, Father." Anduin looked and sounded utterly overwhelmed by it all. "I feel as though I understand what is going on here to a point."

"There is more to all of this than just fighting to appease the lords of this place." Varian's countenance grew grim as he turned his gaze to the sky. "Could you imagine what would happen if Sargeras found out about a place like this? What he would try to do?"

All color drained from Anduin's face as horror washed over it. "I... I would rather not..."

"That's why it's important we try our hardest to fight. If we support the lords of this place they become more powerful with each victory. The more powerful they become, the easier it is for them to fight off any who would seek to use this crossroads as a means of conquest. As a means to worlds otherwise out of their reach." Varian slowly extended his hand up to the sky. He abruptly clasped it into a fist around a particularly bright entity in the sky.

“It’s not just terrors from our world either.” Anduin’s statement pulled his Father back to him.

“No. You saw as much during our battle today.” Varian reached out and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. All sternness faded into a mixture of sorrow and regret. Normally strong hands seemed weak as they pressed into Anduin’s shoulder. “I… I never wanted a life of constant fighting for you. I wanted you to live a life of peace and prosperity.”

Anduin’s eyes glanced to his shoulder before meeting his Father’s gaze. “I know, Father. But it seems fate has other things in store for me.” Anduin gave his Father a warm smile. “I, for one, am glad to have this opportunity. I never did get the chance to really fight by your side.” He trailed off a moment as a wave of myriad emotions washed over his face. “There are… so, so many things I want to say to you. So much left for me to learn from you.” His voice broke as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

“I know.” Varian wrapped his arms around his son and gave him the hug he had wanted to since they were first reunited.

“Father, I’ve missed you so much.” Wrapped in the comfort of his Father’s arms, tears flowed like springs from his eyes.

“I know. I missed you too. But I am proud of you, my son.” Varian was not immune to his own emotions, voice cracking at the end under their weight. Sensing words would only fail him, he opted to tighten his embrace instead.

“I should take you to meet Lady Raena now…” Varian begrudgingly pulled away from Anduin.

“Oh! It is only fitting I should introduce myself if I will be staying in her castle.” Anduin scrubbed the tears from his cheeks with the heels of his hands a moment. After composing himself he gave his Father a confident smile. “Shall we be off?”

“There’s something you need to know about Lady Raena.” The seriousness of Varian’s voice put an icy chill in the air.

“This must be your son.” A familiar woman’s voice filled the audience chamber as soon as Anduin and Varian entered it. There was a certain amount of venom woven around every word. “How nice for you to be reunited once again.”

Anduin looked around in distress at the state of affairs in the throne room. “This is far worse than you lead me to believe, Father.” Anduin assessed the damage the walls and ceilings that were still in the process of being fixed. “You said something troubling happened to the royal family. Is there anything I can do?” Anduin turned to his father who now stood beside a stone statue of a woman.

“You are welcome to try.” A woman’s voice filled the room.

“Do excuse me. I did not see you.” Anduin looked around confused. “I am indeed Anduin Wrynn. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance…” He finally laid eyes on his father who was not so subtly gesturing to the statue. “By the Light!” He immediately run up to the statue. “Lady Raena is imprisoned in stone?”

“It is the curse passed on through my family.” She replied bitterly.

“For… forgive me… I had no idea.” Anduin was genuinely apologetic as he lowered his head in embarassment.

“Hmph…”

“Has anyone tried removing the curse?” Anduin shook his head. “I’m sure that is the case…”

“This is not the type of curse even Archdruid Malfurion or Mehdiv could remove with their considerable skills.”

“They are… as well?!” Anduin seemed genuinely shocked to know more people he knew, or at least knew of, had been brought to this place as well. “Maybe… it isn’t a curse at all.”

“What do you mean?” Varian looked at him puzzled.

“What if… it’s a kind of vile enchantment?” Anduin looked quite serious as energy polled in his hand. “In which case, I might be able to help.”

“Save your energy, Child.” Lady Raena scoffed at him.

Anduin chose to ignore her and sent the energy at of his hand. It spiraled around her slowly, but seemingly did nothing. Until the statue’s façade cracked slightly.

“What did you just do?” She asked suspiciously.

“I… used dispel magic. I fear it did not yield the desire result.”

“No… It just wasn’t powerful enough.” Raena’s voice had lost it’s hard edge in favor of sadness.

“Hm… I wonder… In theory it could work…”Anduin held his chin as he considered his options.

“Do you have an idea?” Varian looked on expectantly.

“Mass dispel can remove harmful magical effect from many targets all at once. But if all of that cleansing power was focused on a single target it would, in theory amplify the spell’s effect.” He seemed quite thoughtful. “However… Given how little the effect of a single application was, I suspect it would require more than one attempt.”

“Or more than one priest.” A familiar woman’s voice echoed throughout the halls.

Anduin spun around quickly to meet them face to face.

“Or a priestess as the case may be.”

“Lady… Lady Tyrande…” Anduin’s wide-eyes narrowed quickly as sadness took him. “I am surprised to find you speaking so genially to me given our last meeting.”

“Our last meeting was quite joyful as I recall.” She smiled at him despite the worry on his face.

“Oh… Then you must be…”

“Perhaps it is a different ‘me; you know. But this ‘me’ is willing to test your theory if it means freeing Lady Raena.” Tyrande stepped up beside him facing Raena.

“Yes. In that case, I appreciate any assistance you can afford me.”

Together than channeled their energies and focused them all on dispelling Raena’s stony form. When the light dispersed, much to their sorrow, the stone remained.

“It was… too much to hope for I suppose.” Tyrande sighed quietly to herself.

Suddenly a cracking sound filled the room. Like hundreds of eggs cracking all at once the stone splintered and spiderwebbed. Anduin held his breath hoping this was a good portend and not a sign they had in fact destroyed Lady Raena instead. Then the stone started falling away. Piece by piece the rock fell away, smashing to smaller pieces on the polished stone floor. At last, there was none left at all. Lady Raena took a deep breath and all her limbs relaxed immediately.

“For how long?” Her voice was only audible to Varian who took her by the arm to steady her. “For how long was I trapped in that accursed prison?”

“Too long.” Tyrande answered in relief.

“Indeed…” Raena clasped a gem to her chest. “There is much to do. But for tonight, let us all rest.” She looked up at Anduin with grateful eyes. It didn’t seem like the same person who so angrily and bitterly spoke to him before.

“Yes. I have something of great interest to you, Lady Raena.”

“Very well. I looked forward to hearing from you.” With that, Raena gently freed herself from Varian’s grasp and turned towards the throne. “I have already asked so much of many of you. But it seems I will need to ask you for your strength once more if we are to rebuild the kingdom.” She looked directly into Anduin’s eyes. “I was right to call you here, even if my motives at the time were… wholly selfish. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I… really don’t know what to say. I will do my best to assist you in anyway I can, Lady Raena.” Though Anduin answered clearly and happily, Varian looked rather displeased…

#nexus fall #multichapter story #chapter one #heroes of the storm

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voidselfshipp · 5 years ago

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Lonely toucan.

Tommy had recently let me in his small community, I had my own little house to live in, well me , and my dog missy, a Manchester terrier.

And then I met his brother , Joel, he uh.

He was fucking cute, thats what he was.

So, y'know like, those love at first sight bullcrap?, yeah, not so much bullshit now, he and his daughter Ellie,were quite the pair, the kid got on joels nerves playfully, it kind of reminded me of me and my siblings, who were on their way here.

One day however, we needed supplies, ammo, scrap for bombs and traps, there were Many searching parties, one of them was Joel, ellie and me.

My feet drag on the ground, missy was leading the way, long and tall buildings touched the blue Sky,birds Chirped and the place was clear from infected.

-So jerico is it?- ellie asks, wanting to start a conversation- whats your story?-

-Well, im from Argentina, came here before the infection with my siblings , for opportunities, And well, then hell breaks loose and we managed to survive, I at least, left my parents behind , there wasnt much for me back there -

-oh...-the kid says-and your parents?do you know what happened to them?-

-Well, they Passed away after a couple of months after I moved here, so now they are in a better place...i wanna think at least-

And meanwhile Joel was silent , serious expression barely making any sound.

Missy halts and barks, there is a store a couple of meters away, I signal her to come here with me and i scoop her up,just in case we need to bail out.

The shop had a couple of ammo boxes and such, but mostly barren.

-How did you get missy?- Ellie inquires again while searching in a box.

-She was a rescue, after a couple of months of wandering I found her alone on a pet shop, I was astonished when I found her alive, weak but alive, me and my siblings nursed her back to health, and now she is here with me, my loyal companion -

-She is a cute one, isnt she Joel- I kneel down for Ellie to pet her, my dog barks and jumps out off my arms into Joel, licking his face and barking happily when he pets her.

-She likes you-I say,grabbing missy by her leash-come on girl, down, down- the terrier backs off and sits-I saw a room with a shit load of stuff, but equally filled with spores I have no mask-

-We'll go-Joel says, god his voice.

-Oh look!, he talks- I say, sitting with missy, he snorts and shakes his head,I catch a glimpse of a smirk - ill stay here and scan the place, If something comes ill knock on the door-They enter the room, and I just wait, petting missy-you liked Him, dontcha chica?-(girl) she barks and snuggles closer- that makes two of Us.

Meanwhile, Joel and Ellie wander trough the room.

-i saw you smirk, you never smirk with people you just met,whats up with that?-the kid asks.

-Whats up with that?, she has charm,you have to laugh at her comment, shes funny-the Man tries to dismiss the question, but there was truth in there , she was charismatic, and funny, clever even.

-And now you compliment her?, dude ,you totally have a crush on her-

-c'mon Ellie we just met-

-love at first sight is a thing-

Joel groans and both Get out of there , there was a couple of useful things, they all re Group and show what they found.

As they make their way out something stops them, missy grunts, a horde of infected are closing in, too Many to face.

So they run,jeri scoops her dog up and bolts as fast as she can, they enter a departament complex, they barricade Everything they can and sit,waiting.

Vía radio , Joel tells Tom what happened,reinforcements Will come in a bit.

Missy lays down with Joel who is catching his breath.

Jerico finds an ukelele, she hesitates but tunes it as silent as she possibly can, still, they were really far up, and the walls were thick.

-Whats that?- ellie asks.

-A ukelele, Like a mini guitar-she is done tuning it - I wrote a song, its crappy, but y'know , Something to kill the time, also to be noted, I am a hopeless romantic-

-You wrote a song with that thing?-ellie asks, pointing at the ukelele.

-Yeah-jerico nodds

-can I hear it?,please?pleaaase?- the kid pleads

Jeri quickly eyes Joel, who Is sleeping .

-Fine, but not too loud, your oldman is sleeping-

-he is not my dad-

-yeah whatever-both chuckle and jeri starts to play-Oh trough this still waters I flew, my feet barely hitting the surface.

Then I saw you, standing there, I loved every bit of it, oh , to be your River, to flow undisturbed, loving you all the way trough.

But im just a lonely toucan,a silent night owl, that longs to be something else with you.

Oh to be your River, and flow undisturbed, I love you with every ounce of my being, oh to be your River...-

-Thats...too cheesy, you werent kidding about being a hopeless romantic-jerico rolls her eyes- who is it about anyway?- ellie asks, then the older woman looks over to Joel-oh shit , well, I am going to take some fresh air, god, you are too cheesy-

Jeri chuckles and nodds.

She keeps playing unaware of Joel listening to her

--Oh to be your River,flowing trough the storms, with every ounce of my being, my heart sings along.

And even if youre rough, ill Keep flying along, to get to the waterfall.

Oh to be your River, and happily flowing along.

Oh to be your River, and flow with your love-

She is talking about him, he is the only person inside the room that she could have pointed at.

His heart flutters warmly.

Damn this crush of his.

Why does she gotta be so perfect?.

He shifts and she stops playing, then he feels soft fabric cover him, it smelt like leather, did she covered him with her jacket?.

Missy lays her body on Joel and snuggles closer.

He smiles.

-I Knew you were awake!- jerico says-Open your eyes, youre not fooling anyone-

Joel chuckles and looks at her.

-You got me- he doesnt move tho, petting missy's Head-she is really beautiful, Like you-

Jeri's cheeks burn red and looks away.

-Uh t thank you-

They Keep a comfortable silence until missy stands up and sits on the womans lap,demanding attention.

-What did you use to work,before all of this?- Joel drapes jericos jacket on her back again, she smiles at the gesture and signals him to sit close to her.

-i used to work as an animator for a company,my dreamjob really-

-what a shame, I bet you would have exceed at it -

-Heh,i Like to think the same-

Her head falls on joels shoulder, she yawns.

-didnt sleep enough last night?- the Man asks as his arm sneaks his way around her neck she snuggles closer.

-My sleep schedule is fucked-

Joel catches a glimpse of Ellie spying on them Gently peeking over a door, he waves her off and she smirks.

-sleep, you Will need it-

-But what if--

-Sleep now ,ill protect you-

Jerico nodds blushing and snuggles closer to Joel.

Eventually reinforcements arrive.

Back at toms safehouse, jeri is preparing to sleep , snuggling into her covers, herself brought them all the way here, they had the faint smell of vainilla.

A sudden movement made her jump, its Joel.

-You dumbass you scared the living crap out of me!-

Joel chuckles and hands her the ukelele.

-you lost this-

-oh thanks-she says calming down- god im so tired, but I cant sleep-

-want me to lay down with you?-

-Dude , I dont want to bother or seem like a child-she sighs- i just feel unsafe alone..-

The mans face contorns with empathy and kicks off his shoes.

-Make space, c'mon-

Jerico wasnt going to Argue, she lays down,leaving space for Joel to lay down,his arms hug her waist with her back against his chest.

He was warm, they snuggle under the covers , And missy lays down on the edge of the bed where their feet are.

- y'know-jeri says- when I was a teen, I tought that love was bull crap, a few lucky ones could enjoy it, and I was heartbroken,and I just carried this with me, just loneliness, then I saw you and god, I was just smitten-she sighs and turns her head to him-what im saying is....I have a crush on you....-

Joel is taken back but he snuggles closer, whispering a me too into her ear before kissing her, she kisses back and a trail of kisses goes down her neck.

She turns her head back again and smiles.

He hides his face on the crook of her neck and sighs in content.

They both can take a bit of time off, Togheter,just them, nothing else exists.

A sweet and soft 'I love you'loosens from the Mans lips before they crash into a well deserved And very needed slumber.

Even the apocalypse had good things.

[Fin]

#joel miller #f/o community #f/o #romantic f/o #f/o x s/i #f/o tag #s/i community #s/i x canon #s/i #fictional boyfriend #fictional other #fictional love #f/o fic #tlou joel

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